The Fiery Cross

by Diana Gabaldon

  "Shot through the lung," I said, and both men nodded, though they both clearly knew as much already.

  "Shot in the back," Jamie said, a grim tone to his voice. He glanced at Forbes, who nodded, not taking his eyes from the stricken man.

  "No," he said quietly, answering an unspoken question. "He wasn't a coward. And it was a clean advance-no other companies in the line behind us. "No Regulators behind you? No sharpshooters? No ambush?" Jamie asked,

  but Forbes was shaking his head before the questions were finished.

  "We chased a few Regulators as far as the creek, but we stopped there and let

  27 The Fiery Cross 6

  them go.- Forbes still held the hat between his fingers, and he mechanically roiled and and over. "I had no stomach for killing." unrolled the brim, over

  Jamie nodded, silent.

  I cleared my throat, and drew the bloody remnants of Morton's shirt gently over him -

  "He was shot twice in the back," I said. The second bullet had only grazed ly see the direction of the furrow it had left.

  his upper arm, but I could plain

  Jamie closed his eyes briefly, then opened them. "The Browns," he said, in grim resignation. Gerald Forbes glanced at him, surprised. "Brown? That's what he said."

  spoke?" Jamie squatted beside the injured man, a frown drawing his "He

  and I shook my head mutely. I was ruddy brows together. He glanced at me,

  holding Isaiah Morton's wrist, and could feel the flutter and stumble in his pulse. He would not likely speak again.

  "When they brought him in." Forbes squatted by Jamie, at last setting down the maltreated hat. "He asked for you, Fraser. And then he said, tell Ally. Tell that several times, before he-" He gestured mutely at Ally Brown.' He said

  gony. Morton, whose half-closed lids showed slices of white, his eyes rolled up in a

  Jamie said somet the ftly, under his breath in Gaelic. hing obscene, very so

  nk y ually softly, The pulse did this>', I asked, eq

  Do you really thi

  rider my thumb, struggling. thumped and shuddered u

  He nodded, looking down at Morton. to himself. Morton and "I shouldna have let them go," he said, as though

  Alicia Brown, he meant.

  ,You couldn't have stopped them," I reached my free hand toward him, to e but couldn't quite reach him, tethered as I was to touch him in reassuraril- ,

  Morton's Pulse - s looking at me in puzzlement.

  Gerald Forbes wa ed with the daughter of a man named Brown," I ex-Mr. Morton ... 60P cren't happy about it." I plained delicately. "The Browns w erstandinSty. He glanced down at Morton S

  "Oh, I see." Forbes nodded und of with sympathy. "The body and clicked his tongue, a sound mingling repr

  --do you know which company they belong to, Fraser?"

  Browns shortly. "Or they did. I havena seen either of them, since "Mine," Jamie said for him, Sassethe end of the battle." He turned to me. "is there aught to do

  nach?" I shook my head, but didn't let go of his wrist. The pulse hadn't improved, but it hadn't gotten worse, either.

  "No. I thought he might be gone already, but he isn,t sinking yet. The ball set.Even so I shook my head again. must not have struck a major ves

  -epty and nodded.

  Jamie sighed de .th him, then, until ... ?"

  "Aye - Will Ye Stay wi Dugh, and make sure everyccys, of course. Will you go back to our tent, th'

  If Xoger-I mean, come and fetch me if I'm thing's under control there?

  needed." He nodded once more and left- Gerald Forbes came near, and put a tentative hand on Morton's shoulder,

  628 Diana Gabaldon

  "His wife-I shall see that she has help. If he should come round again, will you tell him that?"

  "Yes, of course," I said again, but my hesitation made him look up, brows raised.

  "It's just that he ... um ... has two wives," I explained. "He was already married when he eloped with Alicia Brown. Hence the difficulty with her family, you see."

  Forbes's face went comically blank.

  "I see," he said, and blinked. "The ... ah ... first Mrs. Morton. Do you know her name?"

  "No, I'm afraid I-" "Jessie."

  The word was barely more than a whisper, but it might have been a gunshot, for its effect in stopping the conversation.

  "What?" My grip on Morton's wrist must have tightened, f

  or he flinched slightly, and I loosened it.

  His face was still dead white, but his eyes were open, fogged with pain but definitely conscious.

  "Jessie . . ." he whispered again. "Jeze ... bel. Jessie Hatfi d. Water?" el "Wat-oh, yes!" I let go of his wrist and reached at once for the water jug.

  He would have glugged it, but I let him have only small sips, for the present. "Jezebel Hatfield, and Alicia Brown," Forbes said carefully, evidently noting the names in his neatly-docketed lawyer's mind. "That is correct? And where do these women live?"

  Morton took a breath, coughed, and interrupted the cough abruptly with a gasp of pain. He struggled for a moment, then found speech.

  "Jessie-in Granite Falls. Ally's-in Greenboro." He breathed very shallowly, gasping between words. And yet I heard no gurgling of blood in his throat, saw none oozing from nose or mouth. I could still hear the sucking sound from the wound in his back, and moved by inspiration, I pulled him slightly forward and jerked back the pieces of his shirt.

  "Mr. Forbes, have you a sheet of paper?"

  "Why ... yes. I ... that is . . ." Forbes had thrust his hand into his coat in automatic response, and come out with a folded sheet of paper. I snatched this from him, unfolded it, poured water over it, and plastered it flat against the small hole beneath Morton's shoulder blade. The ink mixed with blood and ran in little dark tunnels over the pasty skin, but the sucking noise abruptly stopped.

  Holding the paper in place with my hand, I could feel the beating of his heart. It was still faint, but steadier-yes, it was steadier.

  "I'll be damned," I said, leaning to the side to look at his face. "You aren't going to die, are you?"

  Sweat poured from his face, and the rags of his shirt hung dark and sodden against his chest, but the edge of his mouth trembled in an attempt at a smile. "No, ma'am," he said. "I ain't." He was still breathing in short gasps, but

  the breaths were deeper. "Ally. Baby's ... next ... month. Told her ... I be there,"

  The Fiery Cross

  629

  I picked up the edge of the blanket with my free hand, and wiped some of e sweat from his face- that you arC,11 I assured him, then glanced up at "We1l do our best to see

  e lawyer, who had been watching these proceedings with his mouth hanging slightly open- had better take Mr. Morton back to my , "Mr. Forbes. I think perhaps we himP91

  twt. WiU you find a couple of men to carry He closed his mouth abruptly

  "Oh. Yes. Of course, Mrs. Fraser. At once." He didn't move right away, diough, and I saw his eyes dart toward the wet sheet of paper plastered over Morton's back. I glanced down at it. I could read only a few indistinct words between my fingers, but those were enough to tell me that Jamie's casually inWting references to Forbes as a sodomite were likely inaccurate. "My darling Valencia," the letter began. I knew Only one woman named Valencia in the

  ss Creek-in the colony of North Carolina, for that matter. Farvicinity of Cro

  -quard Campbell's wife.

  rribly sorry about your paper," I said, looking up at Forbes. Holding " "Ilm te

  his gaze with my own, I carefully rubbed the palm of my hand over the sheet of ocably smearing ev of blood and ink. "I'm paper, irrev ery word on it into a mess

  afraid it's quite ruined."

  clapped his hat back on his head. He took a deep breath, and

  "That is quite all right, Mrs. Fraser. Perfectly all right. I'll-go and fetch some men."

  EVENING BROUGHT RELIEF from the flies, as well as the heat. Drawn by sweat, blood, and manure, they swa
rmed over the encarnPment5 biting, ing in maddening fashion. Even after they had

  stinging, crawling, and buzz arms and neck, imagining I felt the gone, I kept slapping absentmindedly at - ) in saw that tickle of feet. at last. I glanced round my small kingdo

  But they were gone,._if with an astounding variety of sound effects-and everyone was breathing f cool air, myself.

  ducked out of the tent for a breath 0 g. I stood for a moment, eyes closed, A highly undervalue .d activity, breathin e soft inrush, the cleansing appreciating the easy rise and fall of my bosom, th out of Isaiah Morton's rs in keeping air

  flux. Having spent the last several hou

  to Roger's, I was inclined to cherish the privilege. chest, and getting it in aw a single breath without pain for some time-but Neither of them would dr

  they were both breathing. nts; the other seriously wounded had all They were my only remaining patie es, or taken to the Goverbeen claimed by the surgeons of their own compani

  physician. Those with minor injuries had nor's tent to be tended by his personal se their pains with beer. gone back to their fellows, to boast of their scars or nur stening. A solemn t,ance, and stood still, Ii

  I heard a ruffle of drums in the d's Is silence, in which cadence played, and stopped abruptly. There was a moment

  all motion seemed suspended, and then the boom of a cannon.

  630 Diana Gabaldon

  The Lindsay brothers were nearby, sprawled on the ground by their fire. They too had looked up at the sound of drums.

  "What is it?" I called to them. "What's happening?"

  "They're bringin up' the dead, Mrs. Fraser," Evan called back. "Ye'll no be worrit, aye?"

  I waved to them in reassurance, and began to walk toward the creek. The frogs were singing, a descant to the distant drums. Full military honors for the battle dead. I wondered whether the two hanged ringleaders would be buried in the same place, or whether some separate and less honorable grave would be set aside for them, if their families didn't claim them. Tryon wasn't the sort to leave even an enemy to the flies.

  He would know by now, surely. Would he come, to apologize for his mistake? What apology was possible, after all? It was only by the fluke of fortune and a new rope that Roger was alive,

  And he might still die.

  When I set my hand on Isaiah Morton, I could feel the burning of the bullet lodged in his lung-but I could feel the stronger burning of his ferocious will to live in spite Of it, too. When I set my hand on Roger, I felt that same burning ... but it was a feeble spark. I listened to the whistle of his breath and in my mind I saw charred wood, with a tiny patch of white-hot ember still alight, but trembling on the verge of abrupt extinction.

  Tindet*, I thought, absurdly. That's what you did with a fire that threatened to 90 Out. YOU blew On the spark-but then there must be char; something for the spark to catch, to feed on and grow.

  A creaking of wagon wheels made me look UP from my contemplation of a patch of reeds. It was a small wagon, with a single horse, and a single driver. "Mrs. Fraser? Is that you?"

  It took a moment for me to recognize the voice. "Mr. MacLellan?- I asked, astonished.

  He pulled up alongside me, and touched a hand to his hat. By starlight, his face was dim and grave in its shadow.

  "What are you doing here?" I asked, drawing close and lowering my voice, though there was no one anywhere near to hear me.

  "I came to find Joe," he replied, with a slight motion of his head toward the wagonbed. It should have been no great shock; I had been seeing death and destruction all day, and I was no more than slightly acquainted with Joe Hobson. I hadn't known he was dead, though, and the hairs rippled on my forearms.

  Without speaking further, I went round to the back of the wagon. I felt the small jerk and vibration through the wood as Abel put on the wagon-brake, and got down to join me.

  The body wasn't shrouded, though someone had laid a large half-clean kerchief over the face. Three huge black flies rested on it, still and bloated. It made no difference, but I dashed them awayKith the back of my hand. They drifted up buzzing, and settled again, out of my reach.

  "Were you in the fighting?" I asked, not looking at Abel MacLennan. He must have been with the Regulators, but there was no smell of gunpowder on him.

  The Fiery Cross 631

  -No," he said softly behind my shoulder. "I'd no wish to fight. I came wi' joe Hobson, Mr. Hamilton, and the others-but when it looked as though there would be fighting, I came awa'. I walked away, as far as the mill on the other side of the town. And then, when the sun went down, and no sign of Joe ... I came back," he finished simply.

  "What now?" I asked. We both spoke softly, as though we might disturb the dead man's slumber. "Shall we give you help to bury him? My husband-" "I'll be takin' him home, Mrs. Fraser.

  "Och, no," he interrupted, still softly.

  Though I thank ye for the kindness. If ye might spare a bit o' water, though, or '4ood for the way. . .

  "Of course. Wait here-I'll get it."

  I hurried back toward our tent, thinking as I went of the distance to Drunkard's Spring from Alamance. Four days, five, six? And the sun so hot, and the flies ... but I knew the sound of a Scot whose mind was made up, and went without argument.

  I took a moment to check the two men; both breathing. Noisily, painfully but breathing. I had replaced the wet paper on Morton's wound with a bit of oiled linen, stuck down round the edges with honey, which made an excellent seal. No leakage; very good.

  Brianna still sat by Roger. She had found a wooden comb, and was combing out his tumbled hair, gently removing burs and twigs, working at the tangles, slowly and patiently. She was singing something under her breath-"Frre Jacques."The bodice of her dress showed wet circles. She had gone out once or twice during the day to relieve the growing pressure of milk, but obviously it

  n. The sight made my own breasts ache with remembered strain. was time agai

  She looked up and I caught her eye. I touched my breast briefly and nodded toward the tent-flap, eyebrow raised. She gave me a nod and a tiny smile, meant to be bravely reassuring, but I could see the bleakness in her eyes. I supposed it had occurred to her that while Roger might live, he would likely never sing-or perhaps even talk-again.

  I couldn't speak past the lump in my own throat; only nodded to her and hurried out again, the parcel under my arm.

  A figure stepped out of the darkness in front of me, and I nearly ran bang into it. I stopped short with an exclamation, clutching the parcel to my chest. "My apologies, Mrs. Fraser. I did not realize that you didn't see me." It was

  the Governor. He took another step, into the glow of light from the tent.

  He was alone, and looked very tired, the flesh of his face furrowed and loose. He smelt of drink; his Council and the militia officers would have been toasting his victory, I supposed. His eyes were clear, though, and his step firm.

  "Your son-in-law," he said, and glanced toward the tent behind me. "Is he-" "He is alive," said a soft, deep voice behind the Governor. He whirled round with a smothered exclamation, and my head jerked up.

  I saw a shadow move and take shape, and Jamie rose up slowly out of the night; he had been sitting at the base of a hickory tree, invisible in the dark. How long had he been there, I wondered?

  "Mr. Fraser." The Governor had been startled, but he firmed his jaw, hands folded into fists at his sides. He was obliged to tilt his head back to look up at Jamie, and I could see that he didn't like it.'Jamie could see it, too, and plainly

  632 Diana Gabaldon

  didn't care. He stood close to Tryon, looming over him, with an expression on his face that would have rattled most people.

  It appeared to rattle Tryon, too, but he lifted his chin, determined to say whatever he had come to say.

  "I have come to make my apologies for the injury done to your son-in-law,' he said. "It was a most regrettable error."

  "Most regrettable," Jamie repeated, with an ironic
intonation, "And would ye care to say, sir, how this ... error ... came about?" He took a step forward, and Tryon automatically took a step back. I could see the heat rise in the Governor's face, and his jaw clench.

  "It was a mistake," he said, through his teeth. "He was wrongly identified as one of the outlawed ringleaders of the Regulation."

  "By whomr, Jamie's voice was polite.

  Small hectic spots burned in the Governor's cheeks.

  "I do not know. By several people. I had no reason to doubt the identification."

  "Indeed. And did Roger MacKenzie say nothing in his own defense? Did he not say who he was?"

  Tryon's lower teeth fastened briefly in the flesh of his upper lip, then let go. "He ... did not."

  "Because he was bloody bound and gagged! 5' 1 said. I had pulled the gag from his mouth myself, when Jamie had cut him down from the hanging tree. "You didn't let him speak, did you, you-you-,,

  The lamplight from the tent-flap gleamed off Tryon's gorget, a crescent of silver that hung round his throat. Jamie's hand rose slowly-so slowly that Tryon Plainly perceived no threat-and very gently fitted itself around the Govemor's throat, just above the gorget.

  44 .0 Leave us, Claire," he said. There was no particular threat in his voice; he unded merely matter-of-fact. A flash of panic lit Tryon's eyes, and he jerked backward, gorget flashing in the light.

  "You dare to Jay hands on me, sir! " The panic subsided at once, replaced by fury-

  "Oh, I do, aYe. As ye laid hands on my son.,,

  I didn't tbink Jamie actually intended to harm the Governor. On the other hand, this was by no means merely an act of intimidation; I could feel the core of cold rage inside him, and see it like an ice-burn in his eyes. So could Tryon. "It was a mistake! And one I have come to rectify, so far as I may!"

  was standing his ground, jaw tight as he glared upward. Tryon Jamie made a sound of contempt, low in his throat.

  "A mistake. And is the loss of an innocent man's life no more than that to Ye? You will kill and maim, for the sake of your glory, and pay no heed to the destruction ye leave-save only that the record of your exploits may be enlarged. How will it look in the dispatches ye send to England-sir? That ye brought cannon to bear on your own citizens, armed with no more than knives and clubs? Or will it say that ye put down rebellion and preserved order? Will it say that in your haste to vengeance, ye hanged an innocent man? Will it say there that ye made ta mistake)? Or will it say that ye punished wickedness, and did justice in the King's name?"

  The Fiery Cross 633

  Tryon's jaw muscles bulged, and his limbs trembled, but he kept his temper in check. He breathed deeply through his nose, in and out, bef

  ore he spoke. "Mr. Fraser. I will tell you something that is known to a few, but is not yet public knowledge." li

  Jamie didn't reply, but raised one brow, glinting red in the ght. His eyes